


Cockblocked

by windstorms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cockblocking, Established Relationship, Humor, Incest, M/M, Season/Series 10, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6894571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windstorms/pseuds/windstorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds out his demon days have consequences when he gets cockblocked by Crowley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cockblocked

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reposting of an old fic. It was originally a late April Fools' Day fic. Inspired by that moment in 10x01 where Dean gets out of bed and Crowley sees... everything. Crack and not to be taken seriously.

Dean was sitting in the parking lot stalling for time in the Impala, his hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel. He wasn't sure he wanted to go back in the motel room and face Sam yet. Sam was treating him like nothing had changed, and on the surface Dean was more than happy to go along with that.

But Dean didn't deserve Sam's forgiveness. If Dean were being honest with himself, he didn't deserve Sam at all, and never had. What he'd done couldn't be erased or changed or forgotten. Not for the first time, he considered leaving. Sam would be better off in more ways than Dean could count.

As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the text.

_I heard the car, jerk._

Dean grinned despite himself as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. Sometimes it was like his brother was still psychic. Dean squared his shoulders, grabbed the bag of food, and got out of the car. There were a few people in the parking lot, but nobody stopped to look at him. He paused again in front of the door to their room, still reluctant to go in. _Quit being such a damn pussy_ , he thought, and let himself inside.

Sam looked over as the door closed. He was sprawled on the bed with a book not far out of reach. He was in boxers and a loose fitting shirt, his hair slightly disheveled. It was still early in the evening, but he looked like he had just woken up after a long night of sex. Dean leaned against the door, a faint smirk starting to slide across his face in spite his dark mood. “Were you reading or asleep before I pulled up?”

“A little of both,” Sam admitted with a wry smile. “I was trying to wait up for you. Not my fault you took forever just to get some takeout.” What he didn't say was that he knew Dean had deliberately gone to a diner clear across town just to have some time to think. Dean was grateful for letting him get away with it. Sam raised his arms above his head and stretched, exposing a narrow band of tempting skin as the hem of his shirt rose up. Dean’s mouth went dry.

Trying to distract himself from that line of thought, he said, “You didn't have to wait up for me if you're that tired. I'm gonna eat real quick and then crash myself.” He carried the bag of greasy diner food over to the table and set it down. With a sigh he dropped into the nearest chair and started to loosen his tie.

Sam set his book aside on the nightstand and rose to his feet. “Just going to eat and go straight to bed, hmm?” Sam asked, slowly walking over to stand in front of Dean’s chair.

“Well.” Dean cleared his throat. “Not necessarily. I’m suddenly in no hurry.”

“Good,” Sam said, and in one fluid movement he’d swung one leg over Dean's thighs to straddle his lap. It was a tight fit, both of them squeezed into the motel chair, but Dean did not mind the close proximity at all. Sam leaned closer, nearly pressing their chests together, and immediately went to work slipping Dean’s tie off and then unbuttoning his collar.

Dean rested his hands on Sam’s hips, lightly rubbing the thin fabric of the boxer briefs the younger man was wearing. “Were you waiting up so you could seduce me?” He couldn't suppress a teasing grin. “You know I'm a sure thing, right?”

“I was going to. But since you’re so tired, I can stop.” Sam pulled back just far enough to look Dean in the eye.

Dean stared back at him defiantly. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

With a low chuckle, Sam leaned closer until their mouths were almost touching. “We’re gonna break the chair.”

“Really don’t care.” Dean wasn’t sure how Sam was having this effect on him when they’d fucked only a few hours before, but he was already getting hard. Part of him wanted Sam to ride him right there in the chair, or to push Sam up against the wall, or to go at it on the motel room floor. To hell with trying to make it to one of the beds.

Dean gripped the back of Sam’s shirt, enjoying the feel of warm skin and hard muscles bunching underneath his hands. Sam hummed in appreciation and arched into his touch.

“Can we just try not to fuck this up this time?” Sam whispered against Dean's mouth.

Dean swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat and closed his eyes. He'd almost lost this forever. Hell, he’d been considering leaving Sam behind only ten minutes ago. Instead of answering, he nodded. His hand never stilled as it trailed a path upward over Sam’s shoulder, up to cup his jaw, then finally to work his fingers through his hair.

Dean pulled him down and crushed their mouths together, and Sam opened for him eagerly, desperately, quickly deepening the kiss. The kiss was demanding and impatient, but Dean wanted more. Dean slipped his hands under Sam’s shirt, seeking to feel warm, smooth skin.

Sam began thrusting his hips against Dean’s in a maddeningly slow rhythm, and the possibility of actually breaking the chair was becoming more and more likely.

When it was just them, together like this, Dean was able to forget. About the mark. About being a demon. There’s nothing else but Sam. Sam seemed to understand, as always. He broke the kiss to pull back and smile warmly at Dean. Then he pulled Dean in close to kiss him on the forehead. They were both clutching onto each other like neither one wanted to let go when Dean's phone went off.

“Ignore it,” Sam said softly, leaning back in for another kiss as the phone's ringtone continued to blare on. Dean moaned and kissed him back, hard and deep, before pulling away.

“It could be something.. I dunno.. important,” Dean mumbled breathlessly and fumbled his phone out of his pocket. He cursed at the name on the display before he set the phone on the table next to the forgotten food and answered the call, putting it on speaker. “What is it, Crowley?”

“ _Dean! So Moose didn't have to kill you after all_.” The demon sounded more delighted than surprised.

Dean rolled his eyes. He shouldn’t have answered the phone. Unperturbed, Sam began unfastening his suit jacket, keeping his eyes on Dean’s face as he undid each button. “What do you want?”

“ _I was wondering if you were back to normal yet_.” Crowley continued, his tone patronizing and smug.

Another button. Cool air met his chest as more skin was revealed. It was too hard to focus on Crowley's annoying blathering at a normal time, let alone when he had Sam in his lap. “I didn't know you cared,” he somehow managed to ground out.

“ _Believe me, I don't. I was just curious if I should be watching my back for a belligerent newborn demon or a belligerent flannel-wearing dumbass_.”

“Did you want anything else Crowley?” Sam asked.

“ _Ah, Moose is there. The Hardy Boys back together again. How touching. Well Dean, I hope you at least have pants on this time. I got awfully tired of looking at 'little Dean'_.” He emphasized the last two words to leave no doubt about what he was referring to.

Sam instantly stilled against him, but Dean was more concerned with deflecting the insult. “Hey. 'Little Dean' isn't little,” he protested automatically.

“ _Of course not, Squirrel_.” Crowley's voice was dripping with enough condescending sarcasm to make Dean want to find him and punch him in the throat repeatedly. “ _Carry on boys. Don't let me interrupt your brotherly fun_.” The phone went quiet as Crowley ended the call.

Silence, for a moment. When Dean finally managed to meet Sam's gaze he was accosted with a level of bitchface he'd never seen before.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Dean?” Sam's voice came out flat and cold, already completely closed off.

Dean's stomach dropped. “Uh,” he said eloquently.

Sam untangled himself from Dean’s hold and stood up. “Seriously? _Crowley_ saw you naked?”

Saying ' _I was a demon_ ' was not going to win him any points in the case against Sam leaving him with blue balls. Dean shrugged helplessly.

Sam snorted and shook his head in disbelief. “You know what, I don’t even want to know what else happened.” Without looking back at Dean again, he stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges.

Alone in the room, Dean lowered his head onto the table and thunked it against the wood a few times.

So much for not fucking things up.

He adjusted his pants and sighed. He was going to kill Crowley for so many things, but this incident just made it to the top of his list of reasons why.


End file.
